The West End London on Film

MUSIC: "Shine On You Crazy Diamond" by Pink Floyd

In trying in less than half an hour

to present something of London to you,

we're not going to find it easy to do justice to the city.

Still, we must start somewhere, and it might as well be here.

So, we're going to try, now, to show you something of the Londoner's London.

If I arrive at the Coach And Horses at 12 and not 11,

Tom Baker tells me that I'm "late for work."

We have been known all our lives as a country of small shopkeepers.

He said to me, "You call yourself Toshy The Tie King, boy, Tosh,

"and you're made".

Eight-and-a-half million. That's a lot of people.

And if you ever try walking down Oxford Street

while the shops are open,

you'll find them all coming from the opposite direction.

But, in the West End, the people themselves look normal enough.

Drinks here might cost you a quid.

The West Ender pays for the bright lights,

the sophisticated surroundings, the exclusiveness.

What's going on in London's West End at the present moment is vicious

and pornographic, there's no doubt about that whatsoever.

On page 1 of any London guidebook is Piccadilly Circus,

heart of the West End.

My first impressions of Piccadilly Circus were that

it wasn't as big as I'd expected, but that it was much livelier.

Piccadilly Circus, the stone village green of London.

To take your girl out to buy a handbag or an enormous limousine,

you start from here.

Piccadilly is believed to have got its name from the fashionable collars or ruffs

of the 17th-century, called picadils.

A tailor, Robert Baker, who made his money out of picadils,

built at the north end of the Haymarket a gaming house which later became known as Piccadilly Hall.

Since then, Piccadilly, that jaunty name with a ring to it,

has spread round the world.

And somehow, has come to mean something personal to everyone,

whether they're British or not, who's ever been there.

BELL CHIMES

BELL CHIMES

KNOCKING

Morning, Charlie. Looking for someone, mate?

Well, he ain't come this way.

Morning, Bert. How's it going, me old son?

Not too dusty, I hope.

Cleaning out ventilator shafts, that's their job.

Just look at all this dirt. A hundred tonnes of it every year.

It's all you lot. 900,000 of you coming in every day,

and not one of you taking the trouble to wipe your feet on the mat.

And here we are, slaving all night to keep the place tidy.

I don't know. Actually, they're very fussy about ventilation,

and the temperature's got to be kept constant, too.

Around 70 all the time.

Tall chimneys and lofty spires are the accepted provinces of these men.

But another not-so-well-known one is flagpoles,

of which there is a veritable forest in London alone.

During the winter months, smog, smoke and general filth in the atmosphere

adhere to the poles, and they have to be washed down. So, the steeplejacks are called in.

The method used to manoeuvre up and down the pole is by bosun's chair and rope stirrups,

which seems quite difficult enough on its own

without having matters complicated by buckets and sponges.

MUSIC: "Road" by Nick Drake

# You can say the sun is shining if you really want to

# I can see the moon and it seems so clear

# You can take a road that takes you to the stars now

# I can take a road that will see me through

# I can take a road that will see me through... #

Westminster Council looks after more than 200 miles of roads,

and we pick up an average of 700 tonnes of rubbish every day.

That's double the amount picked up

by any other two London boroughs put together.

This is Charlie Taylor's team here, in the Mayfair run.

He don't hang about.

And he's got a bit of an advantage, really.

He's got Johnny Quaintance, there.

He's a marathon runner in his spare time.

And there's the acrobat, Paul.

It's funny, most people look the other way and pretend we're not there.

It's like they think we're part of the rubbish. That's daft.

You get the odd impatient person who gets behind you, you know,

if you're halfway through, let's say Gerard Street, and they can't get by,

and you get the hooters blowing, and the cars,

and one thing or another.

You just totally ignore them. It's always busy in Chinatown.

There's cars parked either side of the road.

Times we have to move a car bodily.

And if we do get in any trouble, the Chinamen come out and help us,

and if the guy's car whose it is is in the restaurant,

they'll get him to move it, or they'll help us move it.

MUSIC: "Run Through The Jungle" by Creedence Clearwater Revival

# Thought it was a nightmare Lord, it's all so true

# They told me, don't go walking slow

# The Devil's on the loose

# Better run through the jungle... #

Representing the city of Westminster,

I inaugurate this new traffic system of signals for Trafalgar Square.

This system of traffic control is operated by the vehicles themselves,

which means that the right of way on the various roads

is directly proportional to the traffic itself.

No vehicle's being unduly held up.

For years, the planners have been talking of shifting Covent Garden market, but it's still there,

a stone's throw from Leicester Square in the heart of London,

sprawling over streets which have become some of the most congested in Britain.

Flowers, and 40% of all fresh vegetables and fruit sold in the country, go through this market.

No wonder the ordinary motorist finds it difficult to get through it.

At 6:30 in the morning, there are about 1500 heavy vehicles in the area,

not to mention all the hand barrows.

Four hours later, half that number will still be there,

unable to move and get on with the business of distribution.

If you complain about the blockage, market people will tell you

that they were in the area long before other businesses, and you try to get through at your own risk.

One of our cameramen went behind the scenes

to see what the Metropolitan Police have up their sleeve.

This fine body of 50-year-olds, that the average age, are the first of the new traffic wardens,

in training to keep the traffic flowing.

Mostly former servicemen, they've soon finished their basic training.

How can we prevent the ever-increasing traffic halting into one big jam?

Parking meters in the City of Westminster have done something,

but there are still scores of streets and squares

being turned into unofficial car parks.

So, from now on, the traffic wardens

will see that parking meter rules are observed,

as well as informing motorists where they can park,

and coming down on those who do so in forbidden spots.

And it's all going to be done courteously.

No slanging matches, just say,

"What awful weather we're having, sir", and fine him two pounds.

# I've been in the police force a long time

# More years than I care to think of now

# Sergeants come and go

# And inspectors come and go

# But I'll be here until they kick me out... #

Now, I'm standing in the middle of Soho

where I would like to have a talk with two members of the force.

The first one here is Sergeant Sparks.

Now, there's one thing which interests us very much in America,

and that is the fact that you are...

-You don't carry a weapon.

-No, sir. No.

-What do you do if you're attacked?

Well, we have a truncheon, but that's...

You have a truncheon, but I don't see it.

Well, we carry it concealed about us, sir.

But we don't use it. Very, very seldom.

Unless, of course, we are attacked and we need it to defend ourselves.

-I see. Could I see it?

-No, sir.

I prefer not to show it to you, because if we do,

we have to report the occurrence of drawing the truncheon.

-Even to show it to me you would have to report it?

-Oh, yes, sir, yes.

That's very interesting. Thank you very much, Sergeant.

Now, Constable Wood, here, has actually been shot at,

and I'm going to find out from him

whether we can get a few facts about this incident.

You're just going to see the demonstration of an invention

which, it is hoped, will end the smash-and-grab menace.

Here comes the bandits' car, now watch.

ALARM SOUNDS

Mothproof, dustproof and waterproof, one shilling each, only.

-How long have you been in Oxford Street?

-Approximately ten years.

-Do you have a lot of trouble with the police?

-No, not on the whole.

On the whole, I find the police a very nice body of men.

-Do you pay any income tax?

-No.

No, I don't pay no income.

I think I pay my income tax in summonses.

Some of the lads, when they see the policeman come, they can run away.

But I've passed the age of 21, and I can't very well do that.

Well, there it is. It seems, like every other job, it has its disadvantages,

you get chased by the police, diddled by the public, they say,

but, of course, every penny you make in this mark is tax-free.

Get your polythene bags here. You all know me. Only a bob each.

Mothproof, waterproof, dustproof.

-Right, I'm arresting you.

-HE GROANS

Hit me, I'm a golf ball!

Many of the great Soho characters are all dead, and who can blame them?

Their replacements are monstrous.

Massive injections of advertising executives with pocket bleepers

and a taste for cheap wine have finally killed off

what was just about the best part of London for anyone who never saw virtue in work for its own sake.

By and large, I've met a better class of person in the gutter than I have in the drawing room.

You find this perfume, you buy this,

you put little bit at the back of the tart's ear tonight,

I bet you'll finish up having twins.

-How good salesmen are you?

-Me? I'm the greatest.

Don't you ever think you'll ever live...or SEE a man like me.

I'm the greatest. Don't care who you ask.

Ask anybody... What about you, guv'nor?

Now, you've seen me so many years. How many years have you known me?

-Oh, blimey, Lord knows.

-Now, tell the gentleman, be fair.

-About... Let's see...

-How many years? 20, 30 years, isn't it?

-No, not quite right.

-How many years?

-About 28.

MUSIC: "The Truth Is In The Dirt" by Karen Elson

# The truth is in the dirt on the ground

# The truth is in the dirt on the ground

# Not in your gilded cage with your rusted spoon

# When the ground splits open it will swallow you... #

The whole world passes by, you've got everything.

You've got beggars, you've got rich gits in big, flash cars

and, you know...disgorging fabulous, beautiful girls.

There's nowhere else I'd rather be.

You cannot live without protein, but if you have too much,

it will make your passion very high.

Not so much protein for not so much passion.

He sort of saw bad things happening all around him, on the BBC, on the radio.

He had a particular dislike of The Archers,

which he thought was a very, sort of, wicked programme for spreading wicked sorts of behaviour.

Read my booklets, I have them here. They're only nine pence.

He was a kind of emblem of London, of the, sort of, street life,

of the eccentricity, of the free speech of London.

Some shopkeepers are particular about who their customers are,

but with Jacob Mendelssohn, it would seem,

the business runs best without any customers at all.

-But why can't I look in now?

-Because I don't want to. That's all.

It's my property, and I know what I have to do, what I cannot do.

In these streets, you can buy treasures that will last a lifetime,

or delicacies that will be gone tomorrow.

Among the big, modern stores, the small, specialist places,

changing little because no-one wants them to change.

Least of all, the customers, local, or visiting.

These little, traditional shops are wonderful places to buy presents.

Being traditional, they are more concerned with maintaining a reputation for quality

than they are with catching the eye.

And being specialist, they have what you want in a wide range of prices.

Oxford Street, and light is dawning on a chill, midwinter morning.

Who are these, who need a cup of sweet and strong to wake them up?

From Welwyn, Wapping, Wembley, Wales they've come to do the winter sales.

Some pass the time in useful knitting,

while others just get tired of sitting.

But from the moment when the door is opened, brother, this is war!

To the heart of London's West End, the self-condemned criminal

sends his pupils to wreck and burn department stores and shops.

Indiscriminate bombing is the hallmark of the Hun.

Grim humour in the wax models and scattered contents

of a one-time proud building litter glass-strewn Oxford Street.

The smouldering ruins of part of London's shopping centre

bear witness to the work of Germany's hooligans.

CAR HORNS AND SHOUTING

CROWD CLAP AND SHOUT: England!

This is central London, this is the West End,

and we know every time there's a football match,

even smaller football matches at Wembley, erm,

we know that we're going to get the backlash.

# Oh, no There's got to be a better way... #

That's pathetic.

# Say it again... #

I just can't understand it.

# There's got to be a better way... #

Singing "Rule, Britannia!", I've Got the Queen's letters there,

and then they're shouting at me as if I'm against it.

# What is it good for? War! #

It started as an anti-Vietnam War demonstration in Trafalgar Square.

About 10,000 gathered. Most of them were young.

Most of them were sincere, they wanted peace.

Vanessa Redgrave, as usual,

was in the vanguard of the would-be peacemakers.

But also there were trouble makers, a hard core with intentions

to drag the majority of well-intentioned demonstrators down to their sickening level.

This was how they turned a demonstration for peace

into a bloody riot such as Britain has never before witnessed.

According to the police, none of this had anything to do with the Poll Tax.

They blame a minority of anarchists and extremists, who they say

regularly hijack demonstrations purely to whip up trouble.

Scotland Yard put the number of demonstrators at 40,000,

with a total of 2,700 police on duty.

They came under immense pressure on many occasions,

but the man in charge of policing Central London denies they lost control.

-# War!

-Huh!

-Good God!

# What is it good for?

# Absolutely nothing Say it again... #

117 policemen were injured while defending themselves

and doing their duty.

The police have earned the highest possible praise

for their incredible self-control against overwhelming brute force

on a day when a demonstration for peace ended as a war

in the heart of London.

Staged by the real-life Mrs Mops

who clean out the offices of government departments in Whitehall,

the demonstration, led by pipers, seeks public support for a new wage increase.

We, the charwoman of London, and also there's some here from the provinces, I believe,

we consider Stafford Cripps's farthing a damn insult to us,

and we're going to... We think we have the right to ask

for that thruppence, three farthings, to make our money up to two shillings an hour.

That's about all.

MUSIC: "Femme Fatale" by The Velvet Underground

# Here she comes

# You better watch your step

# She's going to break your heart in two

# It's true... #

Lights blaze and dance. A city with her make-up on.

And in the side streets that criss-cross their devious ways

behind the arteries of light, and in the alleys where the lamps are low,

the clubs and the easy money joins the fashionable nightspots,

as proud of their respectability as a girl of her first mink.

The all-night cafes and the nude shows. Soho.

Life after dark with an enamel glass and the cracks showing.

Garish, gay, avaricious, and a little sleazy at the edges.

The highlight of the show at most of these clubs is the striptease.

Don't copy this technique, girls,

unless you've got central heating in your bedroom.

Myself and my boyfriend, we came back from Morocco,

and we got ourselves a flat, and we found it was rather expensive,

and neither of us had jobs, so we wanted to get some money quickly,

just to get us on our feet again.

And we happened to be walking past The Dolls House,

and Richard said, "Come on, let's go in here."

And before I knew where I was, I was sitting up here with Rhoda,

and next morning I was downstairs on the stage,

before I'd even had a chance to think about what I was doing or why I was doing it.

Now, you're going on to take the... To undo the buttons in the front.

That's it.

If I walked up to someone in the street and said, "I'm a stripper",

they'd probably be disgusted and walk away.

And yet, for me, it's just the same as standing on stage

and singing a Schubert lieder like I used to when I was in the convent!

-# Cos everybody knows

-She's a femme fatale

-# The things she does to please

-She's a femme fatale

-# She's just a little tease

-She's a femme fatale

# See the way she walks

# Hear the way she talks... #

Not allowed to talk, so, you just sort of smile sweetly back

and hope for the best.

You're not allowed to move, either.

So if you're in an uncomfortable position,

you just have to wait until somebody pulls the curtains.

What about the boyfriend now? In the first place, he was keen for you to come earn the money.

Now he hates it.

He keeps on saying to me, "Oh, I don't want you to do this work!"

But perhaps because I'm very stubborn, it was his idea,

I didn't want to do it in the first place, I think,

"Right, I'll get my own back on you now."

But I thought, "Well, it was his idea for me to just work for a week or so, get 80 quid."

But I thought, "Well, I've sold my soul for a while,

"why not sell my soul for a bit longer,

"and get some money that I can enjoy?"

I mean, go through all the hard work first

and don't reap any of the benefits.

You see, so it's affecting me already.

I'm thinking, you know, "money" now.

PHONE RINGS

Hi!

Yes, darling. We have a couple of speciality rooms here.

Loads of clothes and toys, videos, bath, shower.

So the combination of your personal treatments is entirely up to you.

English, 25 years old, about 5'6"...

-"25!"

-..shoulder length dark hair.

36, 24, 37, but lovely and firm. She's an aerobics instructor.

£40, and you can do whatever you please.

This is the cross. And guys like to be tied up on that, and sometimes I tickle them, or whatever.

Do different things to them. This is the stocks.

Some of the guys like real, really heavy-duty pain,

-but most of them like the idea of it more than the actual pain.

-Yeah.

I don't mind. It doesn't bother me at all.

If they need a good beating, I'll give it 'em.

That was the dark side of the picture,

the good-time girl who drifts into sordid ways of life,

into the lower depths of the big city.

But for every girl who gets into trouble, there are thousands

of normal, healthy youngsters living and working happily in London.

They are forming new friendships, sharing new experiences,

and enjoying all the excitement that London offers.

MUSIC: "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak

Shaftesbury Avenue, street of theatres and cinemas.

A world of make-believe for those who would escape reality, if only for a few hours.

The West End on a Saturday night is always milling with people.

And, perhaps because of the crowds,

it can be a lonely place for strangers like Harold and his wife.

No, Mr Harold Martin, you're too young.

By now it's too late for the theatres, but not for the cinemas.

At home, they only have to pay 1/9.

I'm afraid here, he found himself rushed for 4/6.

But they didn't mind. One day in the year, and it was their day out.

Monday evening, and tucked away amongst the tawdry glitter

of Soho's all-night strip shows and Chinese takeaways,

is London's latest place to be and be seen in - The Gargoyle Club.

HIP-HOP MUSIC

HE RAPS

Cyberman, why do you do it?

Because, it's the best thing, I'm good at doing it,

and there's not many people that do it.

-How much time does it take you to get it together?

-Well, not much time.

As long as the ending word rhymes, then it's all right.

But what's the attraction of rapping? Nick Jones and Simon Oakes.

It's the beginning and the end of everything.

It's speaking in rhymes, it's talking in rhyme talk,

it's jiving, it's dancing, it's rapping.

It's, erm, it's whatever you want to do

when you don't have anything else to do.

HE RAPS

Every kid that does it feels like a star.

I mean, I can make up my lyrics and I can sing my particular tune,

but, you know, it doesn't mean that that kid has any great...

I mean, doesn't get any exposure.

The Beare family has been in violins and cellos in Soho since 1892.

Some of the world's greatest musicians buy here,

and bring their precious instruments to the repair room upstairs.

The hallmarks of a Beare's craftsmen are delicate fingers, and nerves of steel.

It's certainly one of Stradivarius's...nicer instruments.

Made in 1721.

-Do you know what it's worth?

-Erm, certainly over £100,000.

WOOD CREAKS

-Did you heart beat any faster when you did that?

-Perhaps a little bit.

What goes into the making of a stage fight,

full of flashing swords and the clash of steel on steel?

West End actor, Patrick Crane,

believes that to give the audience value for its money,

every stroke must be planned in detail beforehand.

His partner in the fight, and in the school of fencing they run together,

is Rex Rickman, competition fencer with the Grenadier Guards,

who fought in the Brigade Of Guards during the war.

Patrick Crane and Rex Rickman aim to make stage fights technically perfect,

and at the same time give them the greatest dramatic effect.

The result of all that planning is going to make the audience

sit up during the duel scene in Hamlet.

Most of what's left of the British film industry is run from Soho.

Today, sound effects are being dubbed onto Dance With A Stranger.

WATER BOTTLE SQUIRTS

POURING FROM BOTTLE

The grande dame of sound effects is Beryl Mortimer, 25 years at the game.

Dogs and their habits are a cinch.

Today's real challenge is synchronising the unzipping of a banana.

HARMONICA MUSIC

I don't think anyone ever really believes it'll happen to them,

and if you talk to these people, and everyone round here does talk to them,

and gets to know some of them, quite regularly over a period of years,

you will find that they never really believed it would happen to them, at all.

-You know, the margin, the line, is awfully narrow.

-You mean, just a hair's breadth...

And people can topple over and go down into it.

When the glamour wears off, here at least, in Centrepoint, there's shelter.

Incredible though it may seem,

there is still this Dick Whittington idea about London.

And those kids come in from Scotland, Ireland, the north of England,

still with this idea that everything is going to be fine,

they're going to be able to get a job. London's paved with gold, and so on.

And, of course, they immediately hit the disillusionment.

God, I hate this place, I really, really hate it here.

John! John! It's Jane.

Just getting you back for all the times you've been annoying. Hello!

SHE LAUGHS

A lot of the young homeless will get offered

money for sexual...favours.

And some... Some of the offers are extremely tempting.

So, I'll take the condoms, lube and that,

while Jane deals with the injecting equipment.

But, like, Piccadilly, for example, has got a really long history.

Oscar Wilde, in his trial,

there's cases cited in that

of him picking up rent boys in Piccadilly.

I earn more money than half of these people working in an office.

They look at it as a dirty, perverted thing, right?

I look at it as a job.

That is it. And I'm not scared to say, "Oh, yes, I'm a rent boy."

But I'm not. I'm a male prostitute.

You can get immunised against Hep B, which is a big issue for gay men,

-especially, you know, you can pick that up...

-Kissing?

-Not really from kissing,

but it's more like little cuts and things, and from...sex.

Cos, right, I've got a marble ceiling,

studio flat, with views.

Central location.

Central location, two telephones. People say I'm homeless?

THEY LAUGH

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd